Perspective
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: The night of the Illinois Primary: Josh is in a state of shock after Donna breaks the news about his dad dying to him and one by one, the staffers find out what happened. Donna gets him in a cab and Leo can't stop Governor Bartlet from going after him. '. . . it was Sam who said, "I think we're not only backing up a good politician; we're also backing up a good man."'


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The West Wing. Or O'Hare or JFK Airports. Also, the Doobie Brothers are their own persons. **

***bounds onto the scene 20 years too late* The West Wing is the fast-paced, heartfelt political drama I didn't know I needed to binge!**

**(Also, this scene just stuck out in my mind. I tend to write out the things that do that.)**

Um . . . he couldn't think. He couldn't . . . process . . . What Donna just said to him, those words weren't true. They weren't . . . This wasn't real. The suite full of ecstatic campaign workers popping bottles of champagne and falling over one another to pound backs and whoop, _that _was real. The fact that they just won the Illinois Primary and they were gonna run a _presidential _campaign—again, _that _was real. That should've been the thing that felt like a dream right now, but that was _totally _real. Donna saying that his dad just _died_—no, no, that—that, um . . . _That _wasn't real.

"Josh?" All the noise around him had faded, all muffled, like there was cotton stuffing up his ears. Suddenly Donna's direct voice cut through clear, too sharp and clear. "Josh? Did you hear me?"

"Um . . ." He couldn't decide what words he wanted to say, what words _meant _something, anything, so he fumbled. "Um . . . what?"

"Josh." Donna's honest face showed concern. "Josh, did you hear me? Say something!"

"Donna. . ." he finally said, " . . . that's not true."

"It is, Josh," Donna said sadly. "I just got off the phone with your mom. She called for you. He went in for his chemotherapy and he just had a . . . what was it?" She scrambled, searching for the right medical term. "A pulmonary embolism. Which is, I don't know—"

"A blood clot." Josh could always return to facts. When personal shit happened and it messed him up, his mind always returned to facts as something firm to hold on to. He had a hard time grasping anything else. "That's a blood clot."

"Yeah. That affected his heart, which led to cardiac arrest," Donna said. She touched his shoulder, her hand comforting. "I'm sorry."

"When?" Josh wondered. Suddenly, with urgency, he asked again, "When did it happen?"

"Three hours ago," Donna said. Again, "I'm sorry."

Josh's eyes drifted from her face to latch onto a spot across the crowded suite. He suddenly lurched like a drunkard around the room; Donna hurried after him, afraid he was going for the bar. "Josh!" she said.

"I need . . . I need . . ." Josh said, his eyes searching past all the campaign staff and the dancing and the live news playing on at least six different TVs—where _was _it?

"Josh," Sam said, a broad smile on his face. He lifted a hand to indicate the music playing around them and said, "Doobie Brothers, just what you asked for."

Oh, the song had changed. Of all the information Josh had just processed in the last minute, that wasn't up there with what he'd actually _registered_.

Sam's smile disappeared the second he saw Josh's drawn, stunned face. "Josh, what happened? Josh?"

"His father died," Donna said, since Josh couldn't really speak right now.

"Oh no, Josh," Sam said. He instantly embraced Josh in a tight hug, but Josh was as stiff as a board. He didn't return it. He barely felt it. "I'm so sorry."

When Sam let him go, all Josh could say was, "I need . . . um . . . I need. . ."

"Donna," Sam said in a commanding voice, since Josh was currently incapable of playing boss right now, "order a cab. We need to get him to O'Hare as soon as possible. Get him a ticket to JFK, next flight out. Call his mom back, get her to send somebody out to pick him up when his flight lands."

"Whooo!" Toby appeared with a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "What say we toast to ourselves and a job well done?" It took him three seconds to register Donna and Sam's mirrored faces and realize that Josh was in a sudden state of shock, and that was enough to zap him back into the here and now. "What happened?" he asked seriously.

"Josh's dad died," Sam said.

"And I need to call a cab," Donna said, disappearing to find a phone.

"Oh, Josh," Tony said, the color draining from his face. "I'm sorry."

"I need . . ." Josh sighed just a little as he let the sentence trail off. It was just . . . really hard to speak right now. Or thinking. Thinking was hard, too.

"Hey, why all the long faces? I thought we were gonna party up in here!" C.J., trying to be hip and laidback and celebratory, forgot to read the room. Her smile turned upside as she said, "Wait, what happened? Oh, tell me something didn't go wrong—false info, premature results—tell me we didn't lose—"

"_We _didn't just lose," Josh said. He had to stop and play his tongue against his cheek to fight back the choke in his throat so his voice wouldn't break when he said, "But _I _did."

"Josh just got the news that his father passed away," Toby informed her.

"Oh, no. Josh," C.J. said. Again, her hug was there, heartfelt on her side, barely, like, _there _to Josh. "We're here for you," she said. "No matter what, whatever you need."

"He's getting on a plane tonight," Sam said, "to New York. Donna's calling a cab."

Josh suddenly lurched again, his mind narrowing in on one thing as Sam, C.J., and Toby exchanged looks and went after him. "Josh? Josh!" they called after him over the Doobie Brothers and the TVs' blaring reporters and the exchange of whoops and job-well-done's amongst the crowd.

Josh's eyes landed on the pile of jackets lying in a haphazard pile on one of the couches. Hundreds' of dollars worth of suit jackets all crumpled together without a thought on a couch. Everyone had been too eager to turn on the live news than to hang up their suit jacket. He dug through them and pulled out his.

Sam, C.J., and Toby crowded around him as Donna hurried up. "The cab will be at the hotel's back door in five minutes. Josh?"

His brow furrowed as she helped him put on his jacket. "I need . . . my jacket." There. _That _was the end of the sentence he was looking for this entire time. He needed his jacket so he could go to the airport and fly home and . . . plan his dad's funeral. Go to his dad's funeral. 'Cause his dad was _dead_.

Donna's hands reached out subconsciously to rub out the wrinkles in his sleeves and back. "Do you want me to go with you?" she wondered. She's the only one who _could_; as much as the other three felt for him and wanted to be there for him, even now, the Governor needed them more.

"No . . . um . . ." Josh looked around the room, avoiding their eyes, and didn't see anything. "Let me just . . . slip out."

"Josh, you shouldn't be alone right now," Sam said.

"Sam," Josh said, addressing him seriously and with more concentration than he'd shown anyone in the last five minutes, "it's okay. This is mine. It's not any of yours." He waved an arm around to encompass the happy room full of people blissfully ignorant of the heartache spreading across his chest. He wore a slapped-on, momentary smile. "This? This is all yours." He clapped a hand on Toby's shoulder. "Let Leo know I'm gone. But otherwise, enjoy the party." He walked forward with confidence to the front door, no one following him, until he stood in front of the closed door. His mind had gone blank. "Donna!"

She hurried to his side. The command in him had faded away. He just said, "Make sure I make it into the taxi."

Donna wordlessly grabbed his arm and guided him out the door.

C.J., Toby, and Sam, speechless, exchanged worried looks. Their silence was broken by the loud intrusion of Leo, who said, almost obnoxiously loud in light of what they knew, "What the hell are you all standing around for? The future _President of the United States _has a victory speech to give!" He didn't allow for a single word to be said in explanation by any of them as his head wagged around. "Where's Josh? C'mon, we still got work to do!"

"Josh is on his way to O'Hare Airport," C.J. said in a flat voice.

"I should think that we have a couple more items to cross off the list before we head out to California, C.J.," Leo scoffed.

"He's not going to California; he's going home, to New York."

"The hell's he going to New York for—"

"His father died, Leo," Sam said. Leo's face fell. "His place isn't here with us now. His place is with his family, to bury his dead."

"Oh, no," Leo sighed. He mentally kicked himself as he also thought ahead to the what's next they had to do. He sighed again and settled his mind's focus. "Poor Josh. Do we know how?"

"No," Toby said. "We're assuming Donna does, as she was the one who told him. She's with him now, delivering him to a taxi."

Leo ran a hand through his thin hair and almost jumped when Governor Bartlet planted a firm hand on his shoulder. "Where's my speech? Furthermore, where is my adoring crowd shouting, 'Speech, speech, speech', Leo?"

Sam and Toby shifted, realizing that the show must go on, and Leo opened his mouth to speak when the Governor looked around and said, "Well, we got most of what will most certainly be my senior staff, should we keep this winning streak up, but where's Hoynes's ex-man? Joshua, right?"

"He unfortunately had to leave due to a family emergency, Governor," C.J. quickly said.

"Family emergency?" The Governor's buoyancy settled. "What happened?"

Leo, Sam, C.J., and Toby all looked at each other. The Governor said, "Well, does anyone want to tell me?"

"His father died, Jed," Leo finally said. There was no use keeping anything from him for long. "He's on his way to O'Hare right now."

"Oh no," the Governor said. "That's terrible. Is somebody going with him?"

"His assistant went, but she's coming back," Sam said.

The Governor's face hardened with resolve. "Leo, have them call my car up to the back door."

Leo's face displayed panic. "Sir, we have a victory speech—"

"Leo, one of the members of my staff just suffered a heartbreaking life event. And you all left him alone." He looked them sternly in the eyes. "I know you all did it for me; well, I don't like it. I'm going and I'll do what he needs me to do to be there for him. Besides, with you all on my team," he smiled warmly, and yes, there was a little triumph in the twinkle of his eye, "there'll be plenty more victory speeches."

Sam, Toby, and C.J. watched the night's winner disappear from his suite's victory party. The Secret Service followed him out and Leo turned to leave, to follow Jed Bartlet. When one of them finally spoke, it was Sam who said, "I think we're not only backing up a good politician; we're also backing up a good man."

Leo smiled. That was the Jed Bartlet he knew. He was glad the rest of the staffers got to see him for who he really was. "Well, I could've told you that."

**Thanks for reading! Review?**


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